The saving grace of this film is its humour. Playing up to the strengths of their star, Warner Brothers cast their version of General Custer as a cocky, dashing, irreverent prankster with a romantic streak and an unexpected strain of idealism; it was Robin Hood all over again, and Flynn blossomed in the role. All his best action pictures made use of his talent for mischief and comic timing, and this one was no exception.
It also benefits from the return of former co-star Olivia de Havilland, despite an earlier agreement to break the partnership; the part of strong-minded Libby Custer is a better role than the sweet love-interest types she had grown tired of playing for the studio in Flynn's later films, and after seeing the script he had specifically requested de Havilland be cast so that she could do justice to the part. In this final collaboration, she piles all her considerable acting skill into what is, at heart, basically a romping adventure movie, and the screen chemistry is rekindled -- for once, she and Flynn get the chance to develop their characters beyond the initial romance into an old married couple, to equally winning effect.
The Flynn/de Havilland pairing and the streak of comedy are what have provided this film's durability, when most of Flynn's other Westerns -- held in such affection by the contemporary American public, although allegedly not by their star -- have long since been forgotten. The action scenes are fairly cursory (despite, ironically, the death of an extra in a fall during one of the filmed charges) and the villains of the piece turn out, schoolboy-fashion, to be the same people who were horrid to Our Hero on his very first day at West Point, and thus continue to frustrate him throughout his career. It cuts down on the cast list, but it's a trifle too morally convenient.
However, these are quibbles largely irrelevant to a film that never set out to be more than a rousing piece of entertainment. Ably aided and abetted by a sterling group of supporting players (memorably including Anthony Quinn in an all-but-wordless role as the Sioux leader), Errol Flynn gallops his way through the plot courtesy of his usual arsenal: charmingly sheepish looks, unexpected sweetness, mischievous twinkles, flash-point indignation, cheerful fellowship and sheer high-octane charisma. He's a reckless braggart, but you can't help but like him. And it's hard to go away without the tune of "Garryowen" threading its jaunty way through your ears for many days thereafter.
This is one of Flynn's lasting hits; it also contains a surprising amount of good acting amongst the fun, and is a film worthy of being remembered.
It also benefits from the return of former co-star Olivia de Havilland, despite an earlier agreement to break the partnership; the part of strong-minded Libby Custer is a better role than the sweet love-interest types she had grown tired of playing for the studio in Flynn's later films, and after seeing the script he had specifically requested de Havilland be cast so that she could do justice to the part. In this final collaboration, she piles all her considerable acting skill into what is, at heart, basically a romping adventure movie, and the screen chemistry is rekindled -- for once, she and Flynn get the chance to develop their characters beyond the initial romance into an old married couple, to equally winning effect.
The Flynn/de Havilland pairing and the streak of comedy are what have provided this film's durability, when most of Flynn's other Westerns -- held in such affection by the contemporary American public, although allegedly not by their star -- have long since been forgotten. The action scenes are fairly cursory (despite, ironically, the death of an extra in a fall during one of the filmed charges) and the villains of the piece turn out, schoolboy-fashion, to be the same people who were horrid to Our Hero on his very first day at West Point, and thus continue to frustrate him throughout his career. It cuts down on the cast list, but it's a trifle too morally convenient.
However, these are quibbles largely irrelevant to a film that never set out to be more than a rousing piece of entertainment. Ably aided and abetted by a sterling group of supporting players (memorably including Anthony Quinn in an all-but-wordless role as the Sioux leader), Errol Flynn gallops his way through the plot courtesy of his usual arsenal: charmingly sheepish looks, unexpected sweetness, mischievous twinkles, flash-point indignation, cheerful fellowship and sheer high-octane charisma. He's a reckless braggart, but you can't help but like him. And it's hard to go away without the tune of "Garryowen" threading its jaunty way through your ears for many days thereafter.
This is one of Flynn's lasting hits; it also contains a surprising amount of good acting amongst the fun, and is a film worthy of being remembered.